


His Farm Boy

by Ellie_East



Series: Tumblr Briller Prompts! [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Drugs, Gun Violence, M/M, Needles, Not Medically Accurate, Shooting, Vomiting, excessive crying, i am satan, like at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:03:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7925215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie_East/pseuds/Ellie_East
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt: Miller takes a bullet for Bryan. Write this and I will love you forever❤️</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Farm Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry this is so horrible. Please pay attention to tags as any trigger warning my precious beans!

“No. No. No, no, no, no, **_no.”_**  
  
There’s too much blood. It’s seeping it’s way between Bryan’s fingers. He’s trying his hardest to push almost his entire weight on the slash through the side of Millers neck but he keeps slipping.  
  
Oh god. There’s so much of it. It’s so warm between Bryan’s fingers it sends bile straight to the back of his mouth.  
  
He can’t- he can’t get Miller to lie still. The boys hands keep coming up to try and grip Bryan’s shirt and it’s only serving to smear dark red everywhere.  
  
“Why did you do that?” Bryan hoarsely cries.  
  
It almost as if Miller’s trying to say something but he can’t get it past his throat. He can’t get anything past his throat because there’s a fucking gaping hole in the side of it and his neck and Bryan can’t **_do anything._** He needs to get into action. He needs to get help. He needs to save-oh God he needs to save his Miller.  
  
 ** _“HELP!”_** Bryan bellows down the dimly lit hallway. That one scream alone has his throat burning like he’s never felt before but he doesn’t stop. He can’t.  
  
By the third gut wrenching cry for help the sound of distant shouting  and harsh foot steps ring the corridors back to him.  
  
They’re too far away. They’re not gonna make it in time.  
  
Bryan needs to do something. He needs to-he needs to…  
  
Fuck. Millers eyes are closing. His eyes can’t close.  
  
“Miller, Miller!” He pathetically sobs, hot tears stringing his eyes and cheeks. “Baby, come on. Don’t do this, _don’t_ do this.”  
  
“What happened?” Bellamy shouts as the group finally come thundering around the corner, each covered in sweat and lungs heaving. Most of them stop the second they see Miller. Too shocked to do anything but stare.  
  
Bellamy and Clarke on the other hand are by Bryan’s side in seconds. The sound of their knees hitting the hard concrete is like a thunder clap in the boys ears.  
  
“Emerson, he, he came out of nowhere.” Bryan chokes out, barely able to get the words out as he frantically looks at everyones horrified faces as they turn back to see the men’s lifeless body. Bryan had him down on the ground the second after the first gun shot rang out.  
  
Why isn’t anyone _**doing**_ anything? Millers dying in his arms and they’re all just staring at him like he’s already dead for fucks sake.  
  
“Try and keep him awake,” Clarke calmly demands as she ever so gently guides Millers chin to the side to get a better look at his wound better.  
  
“All of you, spread out and find Abby, Jackson and anyone else with medical experience.” Monty suddenly snaps to the group before he’s shoving his gun and radio at Harper and coming to grab Miller’s legs.  
  
“Bellamy and Jasper, help us move him to the surgery, it’s just up those stairs.” Monty demands, giving the other boys an understanding nod.  
  
“Wait,” Clarke suddenly mutters to herself more than anyone else as they each grab a limb, “I’ve got an idea.” Her deft hands suddenly pry Bryan’s tight grip away from Millers neck and she begins to blindly prod the drenched flesh.  
  
“What are you doing?” Bryan viciously snaps as Miller pathetically whimpers in pain under  him.  
  
God he hates how warm the fluid pouring over his hands is. That bile taste is back again as he tries to soothe Miller and only serves to smear red over his ghastly cheeks.  
  
They’re all used to blood. They’re all used to wounds. But this is too much. Each and every one of the boys kneeling by their friend has to look away as Clarke digs her fingers under Millers sliced open flesh.  
  
Bryan slumps forward to press his forehead harshly against Miller’s. He doesn’t know if he’s trying to ground himself or Miller at this point. He just wants to wake up from this hellish nightmare.  
  
None of this feels real anymore. Like it’s not really Miller in his arms, but simply some kid slowly falling asleep.  
  
Bryan can feel himself slipping. He hasn’t been holding it together at all up to this point but now whatever bit of resolve, or sanity, he had left is slipping between his fingers faster than every memory he’s ever had of Miller smiling.  
  
“We need to hurry this up, Clarke.” Monty pants, trying his best to readjust his grip on Miller legs so they can pick him up as fast as possible.  
  
“I know,” she viciously barks but instantly regrets it as the poor shaking farm boy beside her shrinks away.  
  
“I’m pinching his carotid artery. I just can’t get a good- fuck there’s so much blood in the way- no.  that’s it! I’ve got it! Now! Let’s move people!”  She orders quickly stirring them all into action.  
  
“Up on three. One. Two. _**Three.”**_  
  
~  
  
“Clarke, there’s a lot of blood,” Octavia croaks from behind Bellamy, whose suddenly eerily silent. Both girls send Bryan a cautious look out the corner of their eyes as they chaotically clamber up the stairwell.  
  
“He’s going to be fine,” Bryan defiantly hisses before Clarke can give an answer.  
  
“Let’s just get him to my mother.” Clarke heaves, repositioning her grip on Miller neck to squeeze even tighter.  
  
Bryan misses the horrified look Clarke sends Bellamy as they turn the first corner of the stairwell,  Millers body now limp in their arms.  
  
~  
  
Miller’s chocking. Bryan’s trying to keep the blood away from his mouth and nose as they climb the last little stairwell but it’s everywhere. Its smeared over Clarke’s hands, soaked it ways through Bryan’s jacket and Jasper almost slips on it as it dribbles over each rising step.  
  
As they crash through the door leading out of the stairs and right into the medical wing of the mountain, a cluster shouting erupts around them.  
  
Abby sprints to them first, her sharp eyes taking in everything. Then she gives  Bryan one of the most heartbreaking stares he’s ever seen before her features completely steel over and she snaps into gear.  
  
Before the farm can even register what’s happening, Miller is being laid out on a stretcher and snatched away into a room he can’t follow.  
  
Suddenly the waiting room is deafeningly silent, all eyes on he door their friend just vanished through.  
  
Then the group has to breath in again and reality sinks in.  
  
“I can’t lose-” Bryan starts to hysterically mutter, the words catching in his throat, “I can’t lose him.”  
  
Bellamy is behind him in seconds, one firm hand coming up to barricade his crumpling chest and the other easily unzipping his jacket.  
  
“Get it off,” the words practically hack their way out of Bryan’s constricting throat, “get it off, get it off, **_get it off.”_**  
  
By the time Bellamy’s furiously flung the blood soaked guards uniform across the room and stepped back to slide two hands under Bryan’s arms, the farmers boys knees are giving out under him.  
  
~  
  
“It was meant to be simple,” Harper hiccups from across Mt Weathers abandoned waiting room, “we only had to make sure this place was s-safe.”  
  
They’ve been in the surgery for six hours by now. This is the first time anyone has said anything since they took Miller in.  
  
“We did,” Jasper suddenly snaps from beside her, poison on his tongue and a bottle clenched in his hand, “it’s empty now that Miller’s boyfriends finally put a bullet in the last residents brain-”  
  
Bryan doesn’t even registered he’s on his feet till he hears the sickening crunch of Jaspers jaw under his fist.  
  
~  
  
He can’t remember what the first thing Miller ever said to him was.  
  
He can’t even remember what the first thing he said to him this morning was.  
  
His mind just keeps slamming the image of Millers warm brown eyes glinting at his seconds before Emerson pulled the trigger into his chest over and over and over and over…  
  
~  
  
It took a second for the blood to start pouring out but as Miller collapsed to his knees it left a spray up the wall beside them. Even sitting in the waiting room now Bryan can feel the dried up splatter over his own cheek tugging at his skin.  
  
Bile is forcing its way into his throat but he’s too tired to swallow it down. Instead, he just lets it sit there, it’s acid sting barely registering.  
  
It was the kind of fountain of blood the farmer boy thought he’d only ever see in those lame horror movies Miller used to make him watch on lonely Saturday nights up on the Ark.  
  
Then the bile isn’t bile anymore and he’s retching onto the floor at his feet.  
  
~  
  
There’s a pair of arms wrapped around him again but these are far too small to be Bellamy’s. Whoever it is smells like wood fire and leather. The hair tickling the side of his face is long and dark, but it doesn’t have any braids in it like the other girls.  
  
Octavia. The back of his mind offers. She would get it. She would get why he’s sobbing again for no apparent reason.  
  
Except this time it’s so hard it makes his entire rib cage feel as if  it’s about to cave in on itself and he has no idea how to stop it.  
  
Octavia just holds him tighter.  
  
~  
  
Bryan’s lost all sense of time.  
  
Raven’s crouching next to where he’s folded into himself on the cold hard floor. Harper’s sleeping figure is stretched on the chair above them. Even though she’s asleep, one of the blonde’s arms is swung down across his chest, all but holding him together at this point.  
  
The mechanic has a bowl of soapy water perched on her knee and is methodically wiping a soft rag across his face and arms.  
  
He doesn’t remember sinking to the floor. He doesn’t remember anyone falling asleep. He doesn’t remember when Raven got there and he doesn’t remember how long she’s been cleaning him for.  
  
Instead, he just puts all his energy into matching his breathing to the soft rise and fall of her chest.  
  
It’s all he can do at this point.  
  
He doesn’t feel any cleaner by the time her arms eventually tire out and Clarke appears to guide his head down into her lap.  
  
~  
  
“300 stitches,” Jackson whispers to the huddled group, “eight hours of surgery and enough pain killers to knock out a small elephant but…well think he’ll be okay.”  
  
  
Miller’s going to be okay.

Bryan begins to sway dangerously.  
  
 _Miller’s going to be okay._  
  
His feet seem to loose all sense of whether the ground beneath him is really there or not.  
  
 _ **Miller’s going to be okay.**_  
  
He blacks out the second Monty’s  arms wrap around his torso.  
  
~  
  
Miller’s eyelids feel as if they’ve been glued shut. Which in hindsight, would probably be preferred. Once he manages to slit them open, he’s met with the brightest, most blinding light he’s ever seen. How lovely.  
  
He tries to say _no fucking thank you_ but it comes out as a raspy grunt. We’ll then. That hurt. Plus he’s pretty sure he hasn’t been this high since that second time round with the Jobi nuts Jasper swore were tamer.  
  
“Abby, he’s awake,” someone murmurs from next to him. Oh, it’s nice doctor friend. Miller likes nice doctor friend.  
  
“Nathan?” The nice doctor herself blurs into his vision. The reason why he’s in this strange blinding light place suddenly floods back to him.  
  
“I got shot,” he mutters, apparently rather amused at the thought. It instantly sets his throat alive with the oddest sensation. Not quite pain. Just the feeling that comes right before when your heart meets to your stomach and your stomach meets your throat.  
  
“So you did,” the doctor half smiles back, bringing a hand up to flash a torch in his eyes. Now that. That’s the brightest most blinding light he’s ever seen. Yet it’s gone again by the time his brain realises he should be wincing. He’ll forgive the nice doctor this time.  
  
“But your going to survive,” Abby affirms with a now forced smile. She probably would have preferred he never got shot in the first place and hey, he can dig that.  
  
“Awesome” Miller murmurs, his voice just starting to come back to him. Not dying today. Thank you universe.  
  
So getting shot hurts like a bitch but at least he did it only a few floors down from- wait a minute.  
  
“Where’s Bryan?” The guards eyes become panicked as he tries to sit up, but his arms are seconds too late to respond.  
  
“He’s fine,” Abby assures, trying to force his hands back to the fluffy bed beneath him. They go far too easily for his liking.  
  
“I’ve gotta-” he begins again but she firmly speaks over the top of him.  
  
“You’ve got to rest. You lost a lot of blood and are on a lot of pain medication.”  
  
No. He needs to- he’s got to- then Jacksons pulling a needle out of the side of his arm and darkness clouds Miller’s vision.  
  
~  
  
His eyes still feel like they’ve been tacked closed, but this time he remembers to just leave them shut.  
  
“Miller,” there’s a warm hand wrapped around his upper arm, gently shaking him awake, “you with me?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” Miller mutters to nothing in particular. His voice isn’t half as hoarse as it was the first time he woke up, thank god. Not that he remembers all that much  really. This time however, he definitely feels the sting.  
  
And by sting he means a sucker punch to the throat with tiny blades  all over ones fists.  
  
He’s gasping for air through the sudden wave of agonising pain, which is really only making it worse. Jackson is by his side in a seconds, that damn needle in his hand again.  
  
“No, no.” Miller quickly yelps, or at least tries to. If he wants to keeps his nice doctor friend status that needle is never touching Miller’s flesh again. Period.  
  
Jackson just gives him a helpless look.  
  
“If you stick that thing in me the next place it’s going when I wake up is right up your-”  
  
“Okay, okay!” The apprentice insists, putting his needle back onto a wayward tray carefully. The silence that follows is a little awkward. Almost as if he’s waiting for Miller to-  
  
“Where’s-” the guard suddenly snaps as he tries and fails to sit upright.  
  
“Bryan?” Jackson interjects with a tired sigh, “I know. You’ve asked for him every time you’ve woken up.”  
  
Miller ceases his weak attempt at movement. Wait a minute what does he mean every time?  
  
“You’ve been in and out for the past 12 hours,” Jackson calmly states, “but you’ll probably only remember a couple of them.”  
  
Damn. Bryan’s really been waiting that long? The kid will be yanking his hair out by now.  
  
“Can I see him?” Miller questions, trying to peer at what the man is fiddling with to the side of his bed. Without moving his throbbing neck that is. Please, not another needle.  
  
“Abby said if you felt up to it you could have a visitor but they can’t stay for long, so yes.” Jackson mechanically answers.  
  
Wait a minute why is his face suddenly so close? Oh, because the beds head is tilting up. Right. Movement is a thing. Jackson presses the remote into Millers floppy hand.  
  
“Well what the fuck are you waiting for then?” Miller says firmly but there’s no real venom to his words. He just wants to see his farm boy and he wants to see him now.  
  
“He’s not…in the best state.” Jackson practically whispers to the floor, completely avoiding Millers gaze.  
  
“Is he hurt?” Miller suddenly panics, his eye blowing wide.  
  
He can’t be. Miller stepped in the way and the second gun shot was definitely from Bryan’s rifle. He saw Emerson go down. Oh god what if the bullet still hit his boyfriend anyway? What if he didn’t make it?  
  
Suddenly everything is going fuzzy.   There’s an odd ringing in his and it takes a moment to relive it just a machine to his side fussily beeping like someone just stepped on its tail.  
  
“Nathan,” Jackson all but coos, “calm down. He’s fine. He’s just…worried about you.”  
  
That doesn’t make Miller feel any better. This is the guy that almost had a full blown melt down that one time Miller broke his wrist falling off the top bunk. He doesn’t handle his boyfriend getting hurt very well so just try and imagine him hearing his theif was locked into a literal death trap and launched to an uninhabitable earth? Miller shudders at the thought.  
  
“Well let him come see me then,” the hairs desperately urges. If Jackson’s ass isn’t out that door in the next five seconds, Miller will go find Bryan himself. Even if he has to crawl.  
  
“Alright,” Jackson hesitantly offers before spinning on his heels and shuffling out of the room.  
  
Well then.  
  
~  
  
In the time it takes for a knock to finally ring out against the door, Miller’s figured out how tilt the bed just right for his head, ass, back and legs three times over.  
  
“Bryan?” He barely gets the word out before the door is violently clanged open to reveal his farm boy.  
  
And his farm boy doesn’t look good.  
  
There’s smatters of blood webbing over his arms. Even some brown dried spots staining his shirt. He looks as pale as he used to up on ark and that’s saying something. His eyes are red rimmed and there are dark circles creeping onto his cheeks.  
  
The sandy haired boy won’t even look at him.  
  
Miller’s chest had never felt like this before. Miller’s just about everything has never felt like this before. It hurts more than being fucking shot.  
  
“Baby?” He breathes, his voice suddenly thick with fear.  
  
Bryan doesn’t move.  
  
“I’m sorry-” Miller is quickly cut off by a vicious bark of laughter. There’s nothing funny about it.  
  
“Don’t.” Bryan spits it like venom from a snakes mouth. He’s never been this angry before. Never.  
  
Oh god. What has Miller done? Bryan looks broken but…Millers fine right? Maybe his farm boy is thinking that it’s all too much. That the world is too harsh. That Miller isn’t good enough. Oh god. He’s gonna lose him. Miller’s gonna lose him and he only just got him back. He’s fucked everything up again. Left Bryan alone in an empty room shivering. It’s all his fault. Just like it was the last time the world decided to tear them apart. It because the thief just wouldn’t fucking do as he was told.  
  
But wait a minute. He didn’t want to do what he was told. Emerson was going to kill them. He was going to kill his farm boy. He did what he had to God damn it and screw it if Bryan is about to leave him. At least  he’ll be alive to do it.  
  
Minutes have past now with Bryan standing deathly still as Miller’s drugged mind tries its hardest to churn over itself. The dark boy is staring intently at the love of his life, just waiting for him to do something. Anything. Scream or cry or laugh or smile or anything besides just stand there like an ancient statue in one of this places damn warehouses.  
  
Then he does something and Miller regrets ever thinking his previous thought. The boy across the room slumps forward, his shoulders begin to shake violently and shiny tears drop to the floor by his feet. Miller goes to get up, his numb legs be damned when Bryan says that fateful word again.  
  
“Don’t.” There’s no venom to it this time. No burning passion. No fiery wrath. Just a bone weary tiredness that only ever seeps into a soul too young.  
  
It’s a look Miller’s seen on all the delinquent now. But not his Bryan. Not his baby. He had Miller and Miller would never let him even think of succumbing to the weight of a dying world.  
  
“I almost lost you,” Bryan sobs like he’s sick of crying. Miller’s desperately trying to put himself in Bryan’s shoes to think of what will make him stop crying but that hurts far too much to ever imagine.  
  
“I’m still here,” Miller weakly smiles but the humour is lost on both of them.  
  
“I almost lost you,” Bryan pushes past a harsh hiccup, “and then they said you’d be fine…and I was so _**mad**_ at you.”  
  
Miller blinks at his boyfriend. The fuck is he supposed to say to that?  
  
“You were mad at me…for getting shot?” The dark boy murmurs. He must admit the logic is a little lost on him at this point.  
  
“Yes!” Bryan suddenly snaps like its the most obvious thing in the world. His eyes finally fly up to meet brown orbs and if Miller thought he looked broken before…  
  
One last heartbreaking sob wretches its way out of the boys frame and the thief just can’t take it anymore.  
  
“Please just-” the words are barely past his lips before a mess of limbs is crumbling into his side.  
  
“It’s okay,” he murmurs into his lovers rumpled hair. Bryan’s fingers are fisted in the gown over his chest and his head is buried into the unwounded side of Miller’s neck. Millers wound begins to ache with a vengeance but he couldn’t care less. He can feel his boyfriend’s wet sobs pressed into his collarbone and he will have none of that.  
  
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he all but coos as he presses soft kisses into Bryan’s scalp, “you’re okay.”  
  
The smaller boys chest heaves dangerously and the sound that follows is like a knife straight through Millers well everything again.  
  
“I’ve got you,” Miller pushes on, crushing Bryan tighter against him,  "I love you so much. We’re okay.“  
  
The last words seem to have an effect, even if it is a momentary pause between the boys harsh cries.  
  
 _ **“I’m okay.”**_ Miller firmly states as he pulls Bryan’s head up in front of his.  
  
Bryan nods furiously as he eases forward to kiss his boyfriend as if he was made of fine china. Miller, of course disagrees with the sentiment and crushes his lips against the other guard like a man starved of his last breath.  
  
They stay like that for the full hour it takes for Bryan to calm down. The thief simply whispering “I’m okay” between their mingling breath and his farm boy answering him with a crushing kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy ending is happy!!


End file.
